


Ordinary spaces

by Halfspell



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Original work - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfspell/pseuds/Halfspell
Summary: Ordinary spaces become extraordinary in very ordinary ways.





	Ordinary spaces

He had been in search of the bathroom.

A party was going on upstairs in the old hotel, and while  
the word, party, was a cheerful one, the actual gathering was as far  
from cheerful as a body could get. Not that there was weeping; far  
from it. Family and family of family gathered to drink, eat and at  
least look like they were having a grand old time, simply because it  
was the sort of thing his family did. You had to be there, grinning  
like a fool and red-faced from all the fun you weren't having,  
celebrating some milestone or wedding or something. Periodically,  
people broke off, drifting towards doors for air or a smoke or the  
bathroom. Really it was for a moment of peace, because if they really  
wanted, they could have gotten a quick pee right off the main dining  
room instead of wandering down here, like he was, looking for some  
cool, out of the way place to sit on a toilet and remember how to be  
human.

Unfortunately, this wasn't it.

Instead of tiles he found old brown carpetting and an old piano  
holding court over mismatched wingback chairs. It all looked like  
hand me downs from somewhere up above, where music played and where  
the chairs at least all matched, even if they really weren't stylish.  
It was an oddly nostalgic room, like guest bedrooms in an auntie's old home,  
sacrosanct places he couldn't go as a kid for fear of getting things  
dirty. Temples to furniture no one used.

This one was a forgotten temple. Maybe some day someone would come  
and disturb the dust and put all this in a museum. 

He had only just touched the piano, more than likely out of tune and  
out of use, rubbing lightly against the worn finish, when the door  
behind him flashed open.

"This room isn't for guests," a man told him, authority flashing harsh and golden in a name tag on his lapel.  
"I was looking for the bathroom."

"This isn't it." He was scolded, as if he had been caught tinkling on  
the piano like it was a urinal.

"I know."

After that, there wasn't much he could do but rejoin the party upstairs.


End file.
